


The Living's Easy

by the_grouch



Series: Keep it in the Fam [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Fingering, Incest, Multi, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Threesome, half-siblings incest, implied past half-sibling incest, some light power play, sorority sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_grouch/pseuds/the_grouch
Summary: “Is that what I am?” Octavia snaps. “Am I just some fun when it’s convenient?” She doesn’t look at Clarke, frowning at table as she scrubs at a stubborn sticky patch.“Of course not,” Clarke says. “You’re my best friend. You’re Bellamy’s sister. It’s different.”“That’s right,” Octavia says, fierce as she turns to look at Clarke. “You’re my best friend and he’s my brother. Mine.”





	The Living's Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags, and nasty comments will be deleted. *shrug emoji*

After Spring break, it’s a sprint to the end of the year. Professors pile on essays and reading, and two of Clarke’s classes have at least one more set of exams before final exams. She and Octavia lie out in the quad in the spring air to do their homework, sharing packs of Twizzlers and drinking too much ice coffee to even be considered productive.

Bellamy’s busy at the rodeo too. When he’s not riding broncos, he’s training horses and working on the custom bridles and saddles he’s started making as a side hustle. He’s around campus less because the rodeo’s started back up in it’s busy season, attracting tourists that come down south for the nice weather.

Clarke goes to see him when she can, leans on the fence rails when he’s riding, watching him from under the brim of his old worn cowboy hat he has her wear for good luck. When the show’s finished, she joins him in the stables, strokes the nose of his dappled grey mare and murmurs at her as Bellamy brushes her down for the night and cleans her hooves.

“You talk nicer to that horse than you do to me,” Bellamy complains, and Clarke sticks out her tongue at him.

“You don’t even have a leg to stand on,” Clarke tells him, because she’s seen the way Bellamy leans into the fences in his down time, Woody’s lead loose in one hand as he plays with the horse’s ears and talks low and sweet to her. “You’re lucky I’m not the jealous type.”

There are dark corners in the stables too, good for when Bellamy’s put Woodrow away and Clarke can finally address her man’s care and feeding. Bellamy always taste like leather from his chaps and sawdust from getting thrown, and Clarke likes how gentle she can be to him with sweet, wet blowjobs and kisses on his neck. Likes how Bellamy lifts her into walls and fucks her slow with his face buried in her neck.

They get caught, once. A new girl in the show who works with trick ponies finds them when Clarke’s leaning over a saddle, her skirt flipped up and panties tugged down her thighs, Bellamy kneeling behind her and eating her out. They all go back to his rented room that night and Clarke gets a mouthful of cunt and leather calloused hands on her tits while Bellamy fucks the girl’s mouth.

A rumor goes through the rodeo that it happened, but rumors always do. The girl doesn’t stay long with the show anyway, she gets an offer with a traveling troupe and she ships out not a month later. While it was fun, Clarke’s got too much on her mind to think too much on it.

Getting through reading period and exams is an all out sprint, and Bellamy comes to see her instead, keeps her company during late nights in the library after his shows are over, her feet propped up in his lap as she reads. Sometimes Octavia joins them there, stressed and short with her own work, and Bellamy goes on coffee runs to keep them awake.

Exams end and the reality of summer sets in. Clarke and Octavia are renting their own place for the summer, lounging around their small college town and working part time at the bars to pass the time and save some money. Bellamy has his own stool at the bar that no one else sits in the nights that Octavia and Clarke work, and several of his rodeo buddies come in and out, trying to get free drinks from Bellamy’s girl and his pretty sister, who, if you flirted with her enough, Bellamy might be provoked into trying to kick your ass out of the bar.

It’s one of those nights that one of the rodeo clowns, John Murphy, finds a free seat next to Bellamy, and since it’s slow, Clarke let’s them play bar football with plastic cups set up as endlines and folded pieces of torn paper menus as their ball. She pours shots for the each field goal and it gets to the point where Bellamy’s trying to wheedle kisses out of her as well.

“So,” Murphy drawls, watching the two of them, eyes lazy and indulgent from the malt liquor they’ve been drinking. “True about you two and the trick pony girl?”

Octavia’s who’s washing cups in the bar sink looks up suddenly and Clarke can’t read the expression in her eyes, something dark and hungry.

“Maybe,” Bellamy admits, sending Clarke a hot look. “What’s being said?”

Murphy smirks at them, rolls his shoulders back. “That Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin showed her a real nice time between the two of them.”

“Did we do that, babe?” Bellamy asks her, voice going thick and low in his accent.

“What can I say?” Clarke asks, accepting the clean pint glasses from Octavia and toweling them dry. “Bellamy and I happen to be good sharers. You jealous, Murphy?”

“Not jealous,” Murphy laughs, knocking back his shot and placing the glass down on the counter with controlled purpose. “Maybe curious if your man’s just as good at sharing you with other men.”

“It’s been known to happen,” Bellamy drawls, eyeing Clarke and then Murphy.

“What he’s not saying,” Clarke says, leaning conspiratorially over the counter, “Is that it tends to be me sharing him with them.”

“All right now,” Bellamy laughs, his ears turning red. “Easy, Clarke.”

Clarke winks at Bellamy and then goes back to helping Octavia with the glasses. “You want to smoke later?” She asks her friend, as Bellamy and Murphy go back to trying to one up each other with flicking pieces of paper back and forth across the bar table.

“Sure, whatever,” Octavia mutters and thrusts one of the glasses harder than strictly necessary at Clarke. She turns before Clarke can say anything else and snaps at Murphy, “Hey, we’re closing up now.”

“What about last call?” Murphy splutters. “What about the bottle Bellamy owes me when I beat his sorry ass?”

“Last call,” Octavia says and pours a sloppy shot into Murphy’s glass before he can order it. “And now we’re closed. My brother can buy for you tomorrow.”

“Got a fucking show tomorrow,” Murphy gripes but knocks back that shot and gets up. “Blake is paying.”

“Hey, I was beating you,” Bellamy snaps but Murphy flips him the bird and shrugs his jean jacket on.

“Your sister is closing the bar, you’re buying. ‘Sides, you just got paid.”

He saunters out and Bellamy glares after him before glancing up at Octavia. “The fuck is your problem tonight?”

Octavia doesn’t say anything just drops the bill in front of him and whips around the bar to wipe the table tops. Clarke shares a look with Bellamy, but ducks underneath the bar to lock the door and pull the shades down over the windows so no one sees Bellamy and assumes they’re open.

“Hey,” Clarke says, joining Octavia at the table she’s viciously wiping down. “You okay?”

“You didn’t tell me you had another girl with you guys,” Octavia snaps, whirling on her. “The fuck is that about?”

Clarke, taken aback, glances at Bellamy who is determinedly not looking at them. Of course he’s going to be unhelpful in this.

“It was just some girl at the rodeo,” Clarke tries to soothe her. “It was just some fun.”

“Is that what I am?” Octavia snaps. “Am I just some fun when it’s convenient?” She doesn’t look at Clarke, frowning at table as she scrubs at a stubborn sticky patch.

“Of course not,” Clarke says. “You’re my best friend. You’re Bellamy’s sister. It’s different.”

“That’s right,” Octavia says, fierce as she turns to look at Clarke. “You’re _my_ best friend and he’s _my_ brother. _Mine._ ”

“That other girl doesn’t change that,” Clarke tries to soothe her. “Listen, Octavia, we’ve all been busy. That girl was just us blowing off some steam. It’s different than how it was. With you.”

Clarke finds herself a little stilted, because they’ve never addressed this aloud before. Spring Fling and Spring break sit like touchstones in her memories, blindingly hot, an instant way to get worked up, but other worldly. Twice is not a pattern, not a habit or a routine. Twice can be written off to circumstance, dismissed if mentioned at the wrong moment.

“So what was it with me?” Octavia asks, standing back up and cocking her hip out.

“It was…” Clarke starts and tries not to glance at Bellamy because his silence says enough.

Clarke knows she’s the wild card here. As close as she is with each of them individually, her best friend and her man, she’s in uncharted territory, an unknown variable touching on the deep, secretive history that the Blakes share and keep between them, close to their chests. She feels no risk of losing either of them, but she knows that a wrong word here, a wrong move, and that history and it’s future becomes a locked and barred door that won’t open again.

“It was special. It was ours,” Clarke finally says. “Things like this, no one can touch them.”

“Like this?” Octavia says, catching the present tense. “Like what?”

“Whatever the fuck this is!” Clarke snaps, annoyed and feeling like she’s stumbling through the dark. “I don’t know what it is, but I like it. Doesn’t have to concern anyone but the three of us, but none of it bothers me. None of it will.”

“You’d want it again?” Octavia asks, still defensive, still careful, and Clarke suddenly realizes she’s the gatekeeper to all of this, holding power that they’ve both shirked off to her.

“All you have to do is ask,” Clarke says, reaching out to take Octavia’s hand. “You two are my family, whatever we want, we can work it out.”

The tension that filled the bar shifts: the anxious fine line they’re all teetering on suddenly feels promising. Bellamy’s stillness breaks and he shifts. Octavia’s fine, tensed anger loosens, her hand relaxes in Clarke’s. Clarke brushes her fingers over her friend’s knuckles. “So what do you want?”

Octavia, who’s never really been good about asking for anything she wants, either from fear she won’t get it, or pride, just leans forward and kisses Clarke. It’s sloppy, since she takes Clarke by surprise, and a little mean, teeth sharp and angry as she presses her lips against Clarke’s. Clarke laughs, shocked and hot and catches Octavia’s face in her hands, draws her close and tries to kiss her sweet, but Octavia doesn’t want that.

“No,” she snaps. “I want to be in charge.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, lifting her hands and letting Octavia pull her close with hands on her hips. “You’re in charge, baby.”

“You call that other girl ‘baby’?” Octavia asks, pinching Clarke’s hip, clearly feeling mean and possessive as she leans in to kiss her again. She bites Clarke’s lip and then sucks it, can’t be cruel without a little sweetness too.

“No,” Clarke whispers when Octavia lets her up for air. “That’s just you.” She brushes Octavia’s hair behind her ear and leans in to nuzzle at her face. Octavia smells good, like big blue skies and pretty girl, a light floral perfume that’s mostly worn off, been traded for the musky smell of bar. Octavia cups the back of Clarke’s head and guides her to her neck, and Clarke kisses her there, sweet and letting her mouth drag, lipping at her to raise goosebumps.

“Good,” Octavia decides, tilting her head to give Clarke more room to work. Clarke strokes her fingers up Octavia’s side and enjoys her shiver.

“You should ask though,” Bellamy says for the first time. He’s swiveled on his bar stool to better watch them, leaning back against the bar, a little drunk and relaxed as his girlfriend and sister make out. “About the other girl. What Clarke did to her.”

Clarke shoots him a look, exasperated, and Bellamy just shrugs, covering his smirk with a long sip of beer from a pint he’s helped himself to.

“I’m going to add that to your tab,” Clarke tells him but then Octavia is pushing her back so that Clarke stumbles before she figures out where she’s going.

“No, I like that idea,” Octavia decides. She herds Clarke back into the counter of the bar, next to Bellamy. “Tell me what you did.”

“You want to tell her?” Clarke asks Bellamy a little dryly. “You’re the storyteller.”

“You go on,” Bellamy says. “Octavia asked you.”

“You fucking traitor,” Clarke laughs, realizing what’s going on. “You’re teaming up on me.”

“Ask her if she likes that,” Bellamy advises Octavia, reaching back behind Clarke to start clearly the bar.

“Trust me, I already know,” Octavia says, sliding her hands up Clarke’s sides to play with her tits, pushes them together and thumbs at her nipples as she grins at Bellamy. Clarke suddenly sees them as kids: sun tanned and dusty, kicking up trouble in wide open fields, co conspirators against the world. Bellamy grins back and tugs on Octavia’s pony tail. “Is it weird that your girlfriend fucked me first?”

“Nah,” Bellamy says, nudging Octavia out of the way and stealing a searing kiss from Clarke. “I don’t mind your sloppy seconds.”

“Hey,” Clarke complains without any heat and Bellamy pats her cheek, affectionate and not at all apologetic. “I can’t help it that neither of you can keep your hands off me.”

“Uh-huh,” Bellamy hums, not at all convinced and then, “Up you go, babe.” He hoists her up onto the counter, and steals one more kiss before he steps back. “I think you owe Octavia a story.”

Clarke rolls her eyes at him but turns to meet Octavia’s mouth, hungry as it chases the taste of IPA and Bellamy’s tongue off her lips. “One of these days,” Clarke mumbles into her, “you two are going to have to make out and stop using me as the messenger.”

Octavia’s breath shudders her from her lungs at Clarke’s words and she kisses her deeper, pushes her knees apart so she can wiggle in close and press up against her. “Maybe,” Octavia agrees on a whisper. “But you’re the better kisser.”

The shock of the admittance, however vague, makes Clarke’s stomach jump, her cunt clench because jesus, the image of the two Blakes, young and wild under blue skies takes a hard sharp turn into dappled sunlight on skin, secretive beneath tall, shady oaks and surrounded by the buzz of cicadas. Bellamy stretched out alongside Octavia, the two of them coaxing kisses from each other, Bellamy’s hand sliding up her side, his thumb stroke over the underside of her breast.

“You’d um, you might be surprised,” Clarke gasps. “But I’m all ears.”

“I like Bellamy’s idea better,” Octavia says and then laughs at Clarke’s whine. “You tell me about this rodeo girl.”

“She caught us,” Clarke breathes, leaning back in for another kiss. “Bellamy had me bent over Woody’s saddle in the tack room.” She manages to steal a glance at Bellamy and he’s resting his chin in his hand, leaning on the bar. He raises on eyebrow at her. “He was sucking on my clit,” Clarke says and gets a nip for that. “Two fingers in me.”

“The girl,” Octavia tells her, impatient. “Tell me about her.”

“Took her back to Bellamy’s place,” Clarke says and whines when Octavia squeezes her tits. “I lay the bed and she sat on my face, let me eat her out while she sucked your brother’s cock. She took a while to come though, so after a while we put her against the headboard and I fingered her while Bellamy fucked me.”

“Then you’re going to eat me out,” Octavia says, and pushes at Clarke’s shoulders. “Lie back on the bar, Clarke. I want to fuck your face.”

Octavia contradicts herself by keeping Clarke upright, tugging off her shirt and bra and undoing the button and zip of Clarke’s jeans before she lets her lie down. She swings herself up on the bar after Clarke and kneels over her, strips off her shirt and lifts Clarke’s hand to her jeans. “Undo them,” she says and then, peeking over her shoulder. “And you, you can take off Clarke’s pants.”

“Oh I can, can I?” Bellamy laughs and then Clarke feels the thunk of his weight through the wood as Bellamy hefts himself up on the bar. The heat of his large hands run up Clarke’s calves and thighs as Clarke tugs Octavia’s jeans and panties down in one go. Bellamy’s warm hands touch her hips as he works her pants down. Octavia stands up and shimmies her jeans the rest of the way her legs and kicks them off the counter onto the floor.

Clarke looks up the long line of her, the pale pink of her labia matching the pale pink of her lacy bra. She pinches her ankle.

“Come on, cowgirl,” she teases her. “You going to ride my face?”

“I am,” Octavia says as she drops back down, kneeling over Clarke again. “Any my brother is going to fuck you.”

“Shit,” Clarke breathes and just manages to kiss Octavia back in a quick, wet press of mouths before Octavia’s scooting up and lowering her cunt down do Clarke’s mouth. She smells so good, a tang of iodine and musk of citrus, tastes rich when Clarke gives her a friendly lick all the way up her cunt.

Octavia is already slick and she smears across Clarke’s lips and chin. She gasps a little as Clarke licks into her deeper, curls her tongue around her labia and sucks lightly at them, teasing her. Clarke whimpers when she feels Bellamy’s thumbs rub over her own cunt and spread her open, coating his fingers in her arousal before settling his thumb on her clit and giving her a slow, firm rub.

Clarke hums into Octavia’s cunt with how good it feels and then laps up over her clit, giving her wide, messy licks. Octavia makes a huffing sound and tries to wiggle down and closer, spread her knees wider and lifts her head up to help, laving her tongue against her clit.

“Fuck,” Octavia breathes, and Clarke makes a soft noise, moans when Bellamy pushes two fingers into her suddenly as he keeps working her clit. “Shit,” Octavia giggle gasps. “Bell, keep doing that, make her moan like that again.”

“Fuck, O,” Bellamy breathes and then he rubs up on Clarke the way he knows she likes, a firm, mean grind of his fingers right where it counts inside her so that Clarke can’t help the noises she makes, tries to muffle them as she sucks Octavia’s clit into her mouth. The vibrations and tongue work that Clarke gives her makes Octavia scrabble at the bar, grab at her hair.

“Christ, look at you two,” Bellamy groans. “O, lean forward. Let me see Clarke lick you, huh?”

It’s the most he’s asked for in these encounters and it makes Clarke shiver, lift her hips up to get more from him and she hears him laugh, low and a little strained in the back of his throat. He rubs at her inner thigh and slips her a third finger. Octavia shifts above her, curls over Clarke’s head and lifts her hips up a bit so that Clarke has to strain up again to reach her. The bar is filled with the soft sounds of her lips on Octavia and Bellamy’s fingers fucking her, getting her ready for him, Octavia’s soft, panting breath.

“Lift up a little, babe,” Bellamy says, voice reaching her through the haze of sex and cunt and fingers Clarke’s lost herself in. He tugs on her hips and rearranges her feet so Clarke’s knees are bent, feet planted on the bar on either side of Bellamy’s hips as he pulls her ass up onto his thighs. She feels the slide of his cock over her cunt and then the blunt head right at her entrance.

“Gonna fuck you, Clarke,” Bellamy mutters and then, “you want to watch, O?”

Octavia moans something incoherent. Clarke’s been sucking sweetly on her clit, alternating with flat licks of her tongue a pointed circles over it, being sweet on Octavia in the best way she knows how. She eases off her now, gets a hand over her cunt to hold her gently. “You hear what Bellamy asked?”

“Watching him fuck you,” Octavia gasps. “I want it. I want to.”

“Sit up, O, you’re okay,” Bellamy laughs a little, and his hands leave Clarke’s hips to settle on Octavia’s sides, pull her up. “I know,” he hums as Octavia shivers, “Clarke’s real good at that, huh? I got you, you’re okay.”

Clarke pulls her hair out of the way as Octavia knee shuffles around to face Bellamy, and before she can tug Octavia back down, Bellamy leans down and kisses her, pulls her bottom lip into his mouth and laves his tongue across it.

“You taste her?” Clarke mumbles against him and Bellamy growls. He pulls back long enough to swipe his fingers across her mouth, the fingers he’s had inside her before he kisses her again, getting the taste of both Clarke and Octavia’s arousal at once.

“God,” Bellamy groans, pulling away. “‘S to much, the two of you. Come on, O, Clarke’s waiting for your clit, let her keep treating you right.”

Octavia resettles herself over Clarke facing Bellamy, and Clarke gives a happy little sigh as she licks up into Octavia again. This angle makes it easier to tease her clit and Octavia makes a hurt pleased noise at it. Bellamy grinds his cock against Clarke’s cunt and then lines up and pushes forward. Clarke whines, the stretch of it so good and intense. Her noise makes Octavia’s breath stutter, makes Bellamy’s hips snap into her faster.

“Jesus,” Bellamy groans, his cock all the way in, the head bumping perfectly inside Clarke so that she has to catch her breath, panting from it. “Just how you like, babe,” Bellamy tells her tapping her hip and reminding her she’s got leverage to move. “Fuck yourself just how you like.”

Clarke hums and latches back on to Octavia’s clit, resuming her slow, long sucks and licks that Octavia loves. Octavia works her hips down in tandem with Clarke’s own slow back and forth rock in Bellamy’s lap, flexing up and down to grind his cock inside her just how she wants. Clarke tries to keep her tongue flat for Octavia in between sucks, but the angle is a little harder, Octavia has less leverage and she gets frustrated fast.

“God, I want, I want,” Octavia whines, voice tinged with desperation. “I need to-”

“Here, O,” Bellamy grunts, and when he shifts Clarke gasps, his cock slipping deeper into her. “You can hold on to me.”

Clarke feels the shift, when Octavia goes from precariously bracing herself with her hands on her knees to leaning into Bellamy, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders, his own large palms holding her elbows, giving her leverage to rock down deeper, grind harder.

“Oh that’s so good,” Octavia whimpers and Clarke feels Bellamy fuck forward helplessly, sinking deeper into her and Clarke moans as well. It’s so good, an overload of Octavia’s taste and Bellamy’s cock in her, the gasps of both of them as she makes them feel good.

Octavia’s thin fingers find Clarke’s clit, curious and a little shy in a way they usually aren’t, and Clarke gasps, over sensitive. “Shit,” Clarke hears Bellamy groan and realizes how close Octavia’s fingers are to Bellamy’s cock. The thought alone makes her spasm, dangerously close to coming and she whines, frantic, high in her throat.

“Ease up,” Bellamy murmurs and she feels him brush Octavia’s fingers away from her clit. Clarke’s so grateful, she licks thank yous into Octavia’s clit and clenches down on Bellamy in pulses. Bellamy chuckles, traces his thumb along the jut of her hip bone. “I know, Clarke. We can go a little longer.”

Octavia whines this time, and Clarke can’t help but grin up into her. Octavia loves coming, hates having it drawn out, gets too greedy about the shivery, delicious high to enjoy it being drawn out for her. Clarke curls up her tongue again to get it right on Octavia’s clit and Octavia’s adjusts the circle of her hips, keeps it small so that she can get the firm pointed tip over and over and over.

“Fuck,” she gasps, voice gravely and desperate, shivering on the edge. “Fuck I’m so close.”

“You still like your tits played with?” Bellamy husks and Clarke gasps into Octavia, makes them both laugh.

“Yes,” Octavia pants.

“Better get them out of that pretty bra then,” Bellamy says and Clarke can picture him guiding one strap and then the other down Octavia’s thin arms, tucking the flimsy lace cups under Octavia’s tits like Clarke had done the night of Spring Fling, like Bellamy likes to do to watch Clarke’s tits bounce when she rides him.

“I want to see,” Clarke begs into Octavia’s cunt, lifting her fingers to rub Octavia’s clit in lieu of her tongue. “Please,” she whines at Octavia’s first pretty moan.

Octavia shuffles back a little so that Clarke can peer up the long line of her body, her thumb still working Octavia’s clit in a firm circle. Octavia’s tits are out, small and pretty and lit in the dim light. Bellamy’s cupping one of them, his thumb brushing over the peaked nipple, the pink of it warm against his tanned golden skin. Clarke’s stomach flips and she wraps one leg up around his hips and drags herself closer, gets his cock deeper inside her as she watches him pinch his little sister’s nipple and give it a soft tug.

“Both,” Octavia demands and Bellamy lifts his hand off of Clarke’s hip and cups her other breast as well. He warms up her other nipple with the same slow passes of his thumb and then tugs on it as well. Octavia tosses her head back and moans and Clarke gets an arm under herself and twists to the best of her ability. She manages to get her mouth back on Octavia’s cunt, her nose pressed in her public bone as she laps at Octavia’s clit in time with Bellamy’s slow, firm pulls on her tits.

“Yes, fuck,” Octavia gasps. “Fuck, Clarke- Bell- oh fuck.” Clarke moans and shakes her head, vibrates her tongue against Octavia’s clit as Octavia rocks against her and Octavia’s voice goes high and desperate. Clarke feels the contraction of her orgasm, feels her clit pulse under her tongue. Octavia pets clumsily at her hair, as she comes down, shivering and giggling a little and still clinging to Bellamy’s shoulders to stay upright.

“God,” she whispers and knee walks back enough to give herself room to maneuver, wiggling and stealing kisses from Clarke as she stretches out next to her. The bar is wide but Octavia has to prop herself up on her side to fit next to her, her tits brushing her arm. “I think it’s your turn now.

She leans across her to lick at Clarke’s nipples and runs her hand down Clarke’s something to find her clit again. She isn’t shy this time, fingers firm and focused as she massages her cunt, works her clit. Bellamy groans at the way it makes Clarke’s cunt tighten. He doesn’t have much leverage to help her work herself on his dick, but he sneaks his hand next to Octavia’s and they take turns on Clarke’s clit, Octavia rubbing circles, Bellamy giving her the up and down, back and forth passes of his thumb that always drives Clarke crazy.

She doesn’t last long, not when she’s already so on edge, not when she has both of the Blakes touching her at once, working her between them to make her come. She shudders apart with a high desperate moan that Bellamy leans forward to kiss away, letting her suck on his tongue through the intensity of it, soothe herself with it.

Clarke feels his forehead crease at how her cunt clenches on his cock, trying to milk his orgasm from him. “Don’t come yet,” she whispers and Bellamy grunts, has to turn his head and bite at his own bicep to hold himself back. Clarke runs her hands up and down his back, digging into the fine, pronounced muscle there until he gets control of himself and pushes himself back up, still deep in her cunt.

“You want more?” He asks her and Clarke shakes her head, manages to wiggle back off his lap so his cock slides free of her. He’s slick with her arousal, hisses a little when his cock slaps against his stomach and Clarke laughs at him as she rearranges herself so she’s lying on her stomach across the bar, scooting over so Octavia has more room.

“You want to see how that girl sucked your brother’s cock?” Clarke asks her and Octavia somehow still blushes under her freckles. Clarke reaches out to grasp Bellamy’s cock and he widens his knees for her, gives her more room to get close. Clarke gives him a couple of strokes, and grins at Octavia. “She did ok, but she doesn’t know him like I do.”

Clarke closes her lips over the tip of Bellamy’s cock and gives him a long, slow suck, her tongue tapping lightly at his frenulum. She peeks up at him through her fall of hair and Bellamy groans, squeezes her shoulder, his eyes falling half closed. “Fuck, that’s so good Clarke.”

Clarke hums and pulls herself closer, deepens her bob on Bellamy’s cock so that the head of his cock hits the back of her throat.

“All the way,” Bellamy coaxes her, scratching at her scalp. Octavia brushes a hand through Clarke’s hair as well and pulls it back, holds it out of her way so she and Bellamy can both watch her work. “Come on, babe, you can swallow it. Let us see.”

Clarke grins at him around her mouthful and yawns her throat open lets his cock work it’s way down as she twists her head until she chokes and gags, pulling off a little to try again. “Babe,” Bellamy grunts. “Fuck you’re too good at that.”

Clarke works him for a while, cups his balls and teases her fingers over them until they draw up close and Bellamy’s swearing, hands scrabbling at her shoulders. “Shit, shit, just a little more. Just take it a little deeper, huh?”

Clarke pulls off and Bellamy actually whines with frustration. Clarke smirks up at him but firsts her hand around the base and turns to Octavia. “Have a taste,” she says, turning on her side so Octavia can take her place.

Bellamy’s breathing stops altogether as Octavia glances at him and then leans forward and gives him a small, shy kitten lick, right beneath the head.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Bellamy gasps and comes, come blurting out over Octavia’s lips and cheeks, Clarke giving his cock long encouraging pumps to work him through it. His breathing goes all shaky as Clarke leans back in and closes her lips over his cock for the last few pulses, sucking and licking him clean until he groans from over stimulation.

Clarke pulls off and grins at Octavia and then leans in to lick a long swath of come off her lips, pushes herself up and kisses Bellamy. Bellamy cups her face and keeps her close as he chases the taste of his come from her mouth, his cock pressed against her stomach and Octavia looking up at them, licking her lips clean. 

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
